Lest We Forget
by iDEALITYjUnctioN
Summary: Canada has a strange way of grieving for war, Prussia finds out some things are best left to ones own. Dedicated to Laura McNeil (Royal Canadian Air Force; Women's division)


Lest We Forget.

Prussia rubbed his eyes tiredly, yawning a little as he did so, while one hand lazily cradled the bottom of the steering wheel of his pickup and the other resting on the edge of the open window. In his opinion, it was far too early to be up and much less to be dressed and outside. He'd not had even a wink of sleep the night previous and honestly felt like shit.

Thankfully he had something that had never failed to bring him out of his stupor; Canada, well, Canada _and _his pancakes.

So he found himself sitting in his pickup truck at an ungodly hour of the morning, heading to the Canadian's house for pancakes, and said Canadian himself.

The ride was slow and quiet, his head throbbing a little too much for music, he liked the rocking motion of the car but it was quickly lulling him into a sleepy stupor that would have been wonderful, if it was not going to make him drive into the ditch. Needless to say he was grateful as he pulled into the long driveway that housed Canada.

Prussia stared up at the house as the tires of his pickup crunched on the gravel, it was not overly large, but not small enough to be cramped. It was surrounded by trees and housed a forest lining the backyard. Prussia always thought the house suited Canada well. Modest yet powerful.

He smiled at the thought, Canada had almost spit out his tea when he had voiced that particular observation.

Pushing the car into park he reached for the door handle only to stop short. Glancing briefly out the front window he saw his pancake bearing savior coming out of the side door of the house. Canada didn't look tired despite the early hour nor did he look like he was very happy about being awake, in fact he didn't really have an expression. He looked distant, not in the moment.

That was not what made Prussia freeze, however, the thing that made him stop and stare was; what he was wearing.

The Canadian was clad in all black, from his long double breasted jacket to his dress pants. Even his shoes and socks were a stark black standing out dramatically on the Canadian's light skin, a small umbrella was held in his right hand even though the morning was crystal clear. The only colour that seemed to appear anywhere on the younger nation was in the form of a small red flower pinned on the right side of his chest, over his heart.

Prussia stayed stark still watching as Canada quickly closed the door and made his way briskly through the front gate and around back. Snapping out of his daze the Prussian practically jumped out of the car and hurried to follow. He jogged as quietly as he could, mirroring the Canadian's path through the backyard and just manage to catch a glimpse of the man before he hurried around a corner.

The older nation had no idea why he was so interested in the Canadian's outfit but he couldn't find it in him to just let something like this go. It was strange enough to see the Canadian without his hoodie and jeans but all black was just weird. Even in his tired state Prussia could see something was up.

He sped up to a run, following the man for what seemed like forever. Just catching sight of his coattail or umbrella before he disappeared around another corner or alley. Finally he turned onto a longer road where a large field stretched out in front of them. Crosses lined the green grass, still moist with dew from how early it was, in perfect rows they stood in stark white. Their contrast to the muddled hues of the morning almost as loud as the Canadian's all black wear. Prussia swallowed the feeling bubbling in his stomach, the cemetery was familiar to him, the crosses held the strict uniform air of the military.

Prussia slowed down to a walk staying to the shadows, his eyes scanned the field until it found the entrance to the cemetery, low and behold Canada was making his way into the field. Umbrella still clutched in his hand.

He walked across the green grass in between the crosses, his pace was slower than the walk to the cemetery had been. This walk was pondering and deliberate, it mirrored the Canadian's clouded gaze. Prussia's eyes never left him.

Canada walked until he came to the end of the far row, the last cross that stood as white and loud as all the other if only a little greyed around the edges. Prussia pushed back farther into the trees he had taken shelter beside, Canada was only about three meters in front of him, although he was facing to the side.

Prussia watched, intrigued as Canada placed his umbrella beside the last cross kneeling down to touch the white monument with soft fingers, it seemed strange to him that Canada was treating simple crosses with such grace and tenderness He gently brushed away the weeds and dirt that had made it's way over the white and rubbed his thumb and forefinger over the small plaque that was on the ground in front of the cross.

He did all of this in silence, the only sound that could be heard in the stillness of morning was his light breathing releasing plumes of hot air billowing upwards in soft clouds. After he was done he moved onto the next and did the same, all in reverent silence. He had the same glassy eyed look and Prussia wondered if he was remembering who the crosses belonged to, remembering the war itself. The pain, the hurt, the glassy eyes of dead soldiers. Was that what he came here for? To remember? Who would want to remember those things?

"He's grieving."

Prussia jumped at the sound of the voice whirling around, a woman, looking about in her early twenties stood next to him she was clad in full army dress a few metals adorning her chest, hands clasped behind her back. She was watching Canada with the same curious eyes that Prussia had not moments ago.

"Grieving?" he asked slowly, his eyes fluttered back to the man. He was still winding his way through the rows of crosses. Cleaning each one religiously.

"Yes..." The woman sighed slowly meeting Prussia's eyes for the first time "The war can have that effect on people, even the young."

Prussia nodded tearing his gaze away from the woman, something in her eyes made it hard to stare at them for too long. Something about the woman in general radiated power, from the army wear to the way she held herself. It gave a feel of pride, but not big headedness. Prussia found himself unconsciously liking this strange woman. But he did know what the younger nation felt, if war had anything to do with it. The only thing he doubted was the reasoning behind the woman's choice of words.

"Is this how you grieve?" He asked not really knowing what else to say.

The woman laughed, high and silvery. It seemed to lighten up the air around them "No, no." She said "I don't grieve the way he does. Not many people do."

Prussia's eyes had found Canada again. He was almost halfway through the crosses now. He looked like he could burst into tears at any moment. "Isn't it just causing him more pain?"

The woman shrugged "Possibly, yes." She admitted "But maybe that's what he came here for. Maybe he came here to feel the pain of the soldiers. Although that sounds a little too poetic for my taste."

Prussia smiled but could not bring himself to laugh, the nature of this meeting was too solemn. They stayed where they were for a long time, silence cloaking the park once again. Canada came to an end of his cleaning of the graves, the last one cleared of dirt and debris. He stood surveying his work with clouded eyes. Then all at once he collapsed, his knees seemed to give out and he fell to the cold wet dirt of early morning. Silent tears slipped down his face, falling onto the grass. He looked like he was somewhere else far away from the world of the living. Lost in the lives of the dead.

Prussia winced at the sight of him "It must hurt..." He said quietly, the words were spoken mostly to himself but the woman beside him decided to answer.

"A lot of the world consists of pain..." She said softly "As cliche as it sounds, pain is what makes joy and elation all the better. If we didn't know pain our joy would be so far out of reach we would never be able to feel it. Pain, at the risk of being cheesy, is a necessity to life." She sighed "All of these soldiers went through that pain so this country could thrive and love and be real again. They didn't fight because they hated what was in front of them," She turned to Prussia "They fought because they loved what was behind them."

Prussia stared at the woman for a moment shocked at the words, they seemed too unreal and strange, but they rung with a truth he could not ignore. His eyes flickered back to Canada, he was still crying, though the tears had slowed from a steady stream to only a few here and there.

He had always known freedom cost pain, and loving something you were willing to die for made you all the better fighter, but fighting an entire war to protect your own people? losing countless lives to a war that was not even on your own soil? It seemed Canada's mourning was perfect for the occasion.

He turned back to the woman ready to tell her of his realization only to find that she was gone. He blinked, shocked. Where...? A shock of red caught his eye and Prussia looked to the ground. Standing out against the green grass of the hill was a small red flower, with an almost insignificant black circle adorning its middle. He knelt down to pick it up carefully twirling it between his fingers. A slow smile started to spread across his lips as he pushed the flower into his pocket and turned away from the cemetery.

Prussia walked quickly almost running, he followed the path Canada had took shocking himself at how he managed to even make it back to Canadian's home at all. Diving through the unlocked door and stumbling through the hallway to the kitchen, wrestling with a barstool, but eventually finding a spinning seat at Canada's kitchen island.

Breathing heavily he waited for the sounds of padding footsteps that would announce the arrival of his favorite Canadian. The wait was short, not long after his breathing had settled the front door opened and closed softly announcing the arrival of Canada.

Prussia waited, quietly for once, as the Canadian made his way through the hallway into the kitchen, he looked the same as he did at the graveyard, if not worse with swollen, red eyes and a glazed expression that made him look vague and distant. He stumbled into the kitchen not looking up as he found his way to the cupboard and started to pull out ingredients blindly.

The Prussian watched him, concerned.

"...Hey, Birdie..."

Canada jumped about ten feet, his eyes snapping out of there aloof expression to stare at Prussia in shock. The older nations smirk returned, but it was significantly less confident than it was before.

"P-Prussia?!" He stuttered still staring. "Kesesesese, the one and only!" Prussia answered with a wide smirk.

Canada nodded still looking flustered "I-I'm so s-sorry! I didn't even see you there, I must have been lost in thought..." He trailed off rubbing his arms a little under his black coat. Prussia noticed he hadn't bothered to remove his heavy jacket or shoes when he came into the kitchen. His eyes travelled down to the Canadian's jacket his smirk growing, if only a little at the sight of it.

"It's okay, Birdie." He said feigning his normally egotistical tone.

Canada half smiled, or at least tried too, before it fell leaving him looking not so much flustered as he was not in the moment, in a way. They stayed in an awkward silence for a few seconds before Canada spoke up his voice quiet and nervous.

"I don't mean to be rude, Prussia," He said carefully "But why are you here?"

Prussia laughed arrogantly reaching into his pocket to run his finger over the velvety petals of the flower pin tucked away safely in his jean pocket. "Well, I want pancakes!" He exclaimed, but smiled a little as he added "...But after that we can do whatever you want to do, Birdie."

Canada eyed him suspiciously, usually when the Prussian came over he would, make a scene, demand pancakes then either one; Drag Canada along on some crazy adventure that would either get them arrested or near-arrested. Or two; Stay long enough to scoff down the food and then run out the door to do something that was probably unimportant but was the world to the Prussian at that moment.

"...Alright..."He said his voice as quiet as ever, Prussia smirked at him watching at the Canadian turned away from him to go make pancakes. Usually he would engage the Canadian in some long monologue in which he would really only stop halfway through for air, but this time he stayed silent feeling the flower between his fingers.

"Hey, Birdie?" Canada looked up at him his eyes still a little puffy from crying his expression one filled with suppressed sadness and tears, Prussia smiled at him softly pulling the flower out of his coat pocket and setting it on the table in front of the Canadian."Lose something?" The younger nation's eyes went wide as he looked down at his jacket the flower that was once there now sitting in front of him on the marble countertop.

"H-how...?"

Prussia smiled reaching out to tuck the flower pin behind the flustered Canadian's ear.

"I have my ways..." He laughed his voice secret but soft. The Canadian's eyes softened his tense shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit as he turned away from Prussia to hide his blush. The older nation smiled happily at the sight, the way Canada had let the tension go for him, the way he had smiled and blushed as if what happened that morning was a distant memory, one that had faded more than enough.

_Funny,_ He thought watched as Canada spun around the kitchen making him the only thing he came here for, but right now, the thing that mean't the least to him. _I guess she was right, the world does consist of pain... _

He smiled as Canada's hand reached up to brush to flower his cheeks pinking a little, a small, genuine smile finding it's way onto his lips.

_But... What would pain be, without love?_

_**END**_

_**A\N**_ **_PLEASE READ;_**** I know it is not any kind of rememberance day or something of that effect but I just found out an great-aunt of mine was in the Women's Canadian Airforce and it inspired me to do something about it. If any of the characters are OCC I am so sorry, really I am this is only my second story, but I do want to dedicate this to my Great Aunt; **

**Laura McNeil. **

**Thank you all for reading and I hope you review and find perpetual happiness with life...**

**-Artemis**


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